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Girls, you have every right to show up and thrive in whatever shape you are

Brenda Fassie had talent that is timeless but her self-esteem had been beaten to a pulp by being referred to as ugly, says the writer Clement Lekanyane
Brenda Fassie had talent that is timeless but her self-esteem had been beaten to a pulp by being referred to as ugly, says the writer Clement Lekanyane

Long before I knew my life would lead to this point, that I would find myself writing for a newspaper and publishing books, there was a book that I came across.

The cover was brilliant, drawing me in immediately and begging to open its pages.

What I would find inside was some of the best writing I had ever laid my eyes on. I was intrigued to discover not just a book by a black South African man, but to find a book whose subjects I knew and wanted to read, Hot Type.

That is how I came to know and fall in love with the dream that is Bongani Madondo and his writing.

In 2014 Madondo published an anthology of essays, musings, reflections on the incomparable Brenda Fassie. I finally got the time to read the book, I'm Not Your Weekend Special, yes three years later, my job doesn't leave a lot of time for leisure reading.

The irony of my life, I got into it because I loved reading. Alas!

I don't know how to begin to explain what this book has and continues to do to me. One of the things I regularly tell my authors is that the biggest job you have as a writer is to make the reader feel. And this book made me feel. Of all the feelings, though, chief among them are anger and disappointment.

One of the recurring issues in the book is that Fassie, MaBrr, she of our childhood delight, was referred to and called ugly, a lot. The writers recall how Fassie was almost denied the opportunity to record because she was ugly, how she referred to herself as ugly and how a now washed-up journalist said she looked like a horse.

I hurt as I write this, to imagine a woman who was the greatest entertainer of her time being put through the kind of violence that makes her refer to herself as ugly.

It hurts to imagine a woman, a star whose voice is still, 13 years after her death, able to unite both the young and old; a talent that is timeless, walking around with a self-esteem that had been beaten and bludgeoned to a pulp. What then of us mere mortals?

Did the society that adored Fassie also fail her? I would like to believe so.

I believe that as a society that bows down to patriarchal norms and demands, that there is an aesthetic ideal that we chase and uphold for women, and women only. There is punishment for those who refuse to conform but dare to imagine that they can be stars.

There are women who do not fit the mould but try to break through, we make and push them into unflattering corners, like the representation of fat women in media. You are fat, so you can't possibly represent anything on TV other than a funny, loud "mama" character.

A line in an article on the magic of Fassie manages to work in that she sounds amazing, but looks like a horse.

To reduce Fassie's demise to her living in a world that called her ugly would be simplistic, but I have a strong feeling that it was a big contributor.

As I was reading the book I kept thinking, shouting into air: "Why didn't someone save her?"

While it may be too late for mama, it is not too late for us to save our daughters. We have to be militant about teaching and instilling in them that they have the right to show up, to thrive in whatever form, shape or complexion they arrive in.

We are enough, they must know.

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